Why Should I Stay Clean Im So Sick Of Myself

“fine shyt” dawg just call me pretty, call me a delicate flower, SOMETHING, ANYTHING THAT DOESNT MAKE ME SOUND LIKE A FRESH DUMP

i was supposed to make cookies why did it come out as a cake

WOAHH

this chapter was wild, IN A GOOD WAY (not the ‘mark’ though, that actually made me audibly gasp)

someone get this child OUT OF HERE

House of Wolves

batfamily + oc insert

tw: violence?

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

sevens chapters get me writing like 🏃🏼‍♀️💨

part four

❝ SOMETHING BETTER THAN BLOOD ❞

THURSDAY — APRIL 13 — 11:53PM

SEVEN WAS LABELED A FLIGHT RISK.

Therefore, he was forcibly removed from the apartment that had been given to him and was, instead, forced into a bedroom in the mansion where she lived.

It was a big place. Sitting on a hill with maybe twenty or more bedrooms, the massive victorian mansion looked straight out of old England, surrounded with a medieval wrought iron fence and situated on a constantly stormy piece of land. Time never seemed to pass there — the whole thing had a certain eerie stillness about it.

Only ten people lived in that house. Her, for starters — it was hers and she’d always been there, even when the old owner had still lived there, too. Then there was Seven, the newest inhabitant.

And then, there were the other eight.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Nine, and Ten.

She’d always kept Seven separate from them, so he’d never had the luxury of meeting any of the other people whose names had been replaced by numbers. And still, even being in the same house as them now, he hadn’t seen a soul.

He laid silently on a soft, four poster bed, in a dark room filled with lots of victorian furniture, rich with texture and saturated colors. It was dark outside, but there was a running fireplace right across from the bed that was casting a little golden light into the bedroom.

Seven would’ve called it nice, at least compared to his shabby apartment; but the iron bars on the windows and triple locks on the outside of the bedroom door sort of took away the appeal.

He was stuck in there, and he had been stuck for three sunrises and three sunsets. Not a single soul had come in or out. The door hadn’t been opened since he came in. The only sort of provisions he had was the water from the running sink in the adjoining bathroom, which he probably would’ve dehydrated to death by now without.

He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to die or if she was simply trying to weaken him, but whichever she wanted, she would get. He hadn’t eaten for the entire three days and he was starving; enough to pretty much resign him to curling up in the bundle of musty, textured pillows that sat in a heap at the top of the mattress.

He hadn’t managed to sleep much, if at all. Every time he tried, he had the same nightmare — the only dream he’d ever had, and the only one he would ever have. 

He might’ve cried about the whole thing, but he didn’t want to expend the energy. Not if he didn’t know how much longer he’d be in there.

With a soft exhale, he ran his fingers along one of the intricately beaded pillows. It was a variety of reds, oranges, pinks and yellows. It might’ve been beautiful, if it wasn’t in this place, if it wasn’t the only thing keeping him from spiraling completely.

He could feel tiredness creeping up on him again — not that sleeping would change anything. But the fireplace sitting across from the bed was crackling minutely, and the flames were dancing so soothingly that he found his eyes closing anyhow. 

Was this how the last few days of his life were going to go? Falling asleep and waking up again until, eventually, he didn’t? Until he starved to death and they had to come get a fresh corpse off of the old victorian bed?

He was nearly asleep again when there was an array of sounds at the door — metal on metal, clinking, jingling. He hardly had time to open his eyes before the door swung open.

The hallway lights were on, and there was a black silhouette there. A mass of black robes that revealed nothing underneath. 

“Hello, Seven,” Her voice came, smooth and silky and sweet. 

Seven didn’t even move. He simply looked at her from where he lay, trying to decide if she was coming to help him or if she was about to kill him for betraying her. Or maybe mock him for a moment and close the door again.

She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her in slow, predictable movements.

“Sorry for the delay,” She said, though Seven was pretty sure she’d planned to keep him in there and wasn’t sorry at all. “I got caught up in a few things.”

Seven said nothing.

“Come on, sit up,” She said, moving toward him, the massive black cloak settling a few feet away from the bed. “I merely want to speak with you.”

With an exhale, he did. He sat up and scooted over to the edge of the bed, dangling his legs off the side and saying nothing. He didn’t even look at her.

“Don’t be so tense,” She spoke. She came a bit closer, and Seven felt her hand brush away some of the hair that had fallen down on his forehead. He was so tired and weak that he decided it almost felt good. “It’s only me. You know me.”

Seven didn’t even look up at her.

“I just want to ask you a few questions,” She said, still running her hand through his hair. She stepped away a few seconds later, and the lack of contact left him feeling oddly cold.

“You used to be my most faithful, loyal companion, Seven. When all of the other ones like you disobeyed me and tried their hands at escape, you were always by my side,” She spoke with a certain tone in her voice that sounded almost nostalgic, pacing the room in front of him, only a few steps in each direction before she turned again. “All I want to know is what happened.”

Seven looked down at his feet. 

“I sent you to complete a job, and for the first time, you didn’t,” She continued. “In fact, you did the complete opposite. What did Beniah Ivanov say to you, Seven?”

Seven swallowed thickly.

“Tell me, Seven. How did the conversation go?” She asked, coming forward a few more steps. Her soft demeanor seemed to flee and she slammed a fist against on of the bed posts, shaking the whole thing. “What did he tell you?!”

“My name,” Seven spoke weakly. 

Her anger quieted, and she took a step back. “Your name from before should hold no place inside of you.”

“I… I know. But…” He mumbled to himself. “I never knew it, so… when he said it… I was shocked.”

“So he told you your name to pause you in your tracks,” She said, and she started pacing again. “And what else?”

“He told me about… when I was a baby,” Seven continued softly. “About how he was so excited for me to be born, and that he… never wanted to stop carrying me around.”

“So he was manipulating you,” She stated simply.

“What?” Seven questioned, glancing up at her. “No… no, he was-“

“Crying?” She asked with a toxic sounding laugh. “Lots of people cry when they’re trying to talk themselves out of dying.”

Seven’s words died in his throat.

“What else did he tell you, Seven?” 

Seven said nothing, and she stepped closer. 

“Seven,”

“He showed me…” Seven breathed deep and shook his head, blinking twice. “He told me I was only your slave. And that you didn’t care about me or anyone else. That you were just making me do the work you can’t do.”

She laughed again, a bubbly, venomous sound. “You know that’s not true.”

Seven looked down at his feet. She took pause.

“You do know that’s not true, Seven,” She said, stepping closer. “I gave you a home. I keep you in a special place by my side no one else has ever reached. I trust you,” She spoke lowly. “You know me more than anyone else. You know I care about you. You’re my friend.”

Seven didn’t say anything… he only looked into the blackness under the hood of the cloak. And then he looked down. 

“Sometimes you… hurt me,” He said slowly, carefully, like she might lash out and strike him just for that. At the statement, the small cut that was scabbed on his left cheek seemed to throb for a second.

“I don’t hurt you, Seven,” She said gently. “I discipline you, because I care about you. Just like a parent punishing their child. It may feel like pain at the time, but I do it because I know it will make you into a stronger, better person. You know as well as anyone that I only punish you when you’ve done something worth punishing. I can count on one hand how many times you’ve gone against my word.”

Seven simply looked down at his feet. 

“Did he say anything else?” She questioned, stepping back and pacing the room again. 

A beat of silence passed.

“He told me…” Seven swallowed thick, a sudden burn prickling at his eyes. “He said he…”

She stopped in front of him, her hood drawing closer like she was listening intently.

“Go on,” She spoke gently. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Seven bit the inside of his cheek in a bid to make the tears stop gathering in his eyes, but it didn’t really work.

“Whatever he said hurt you,” She assumed. “Or perhaps… the opposite.”

Seven shook his head. “He said he… loved me.”

The black mass of cloak stepped away for a second. She looked over at the fireplace, as if deep in thought, and then she sighed.

Slowly, she reached forward with both hands and unclasped the front of the cloak, letting the mass of fabric fall to the hardwood floor.

Beneath it was a girl Seven had only seen a handful of times. Pretty, with long dark hair and big brown eyes. She was wearing an old style dress, blood red and long, a velvety looking fabric with gold embroidered adornments along the bell sleeves and bottom hem. She had big red crystal earrings dangling from her ears, and a necklace and ring to match. Her lipstick was dark red.

“He may be your brother by blood,” She said softly, coming just a bit closer to him. “But he doesn’t love you. He was just trying to get in your head, to twist your mind and make you think twice about doing your job. He doesn’t know anything about you. He hasn’t seen you in twelve years, how could he possibly love you?”

Seven didn’t say anything, but his eyes stung more, so he looked down.

“He was manipulating you to save his own life,” She continued. “If he really cared about you, and he was really concerned about how I treat you, don’t you think he would’ve tried to get you out of my grasp instead of letting you walk right back into it?”

Seven said nothing. She came closer, kneeling down in front of him so her face was in his line of sight. 

“I’ve been the one taking care of you for your whole life, Seven. Not him. He doesn’t know you. I do. He isn’t allowed to say he loves you because he doesn’t know if he does or not,” She explained softly. One of her hands drifted up to rest on Seven’s cheek and, when she didn’t have the cloak on, it didn’t feel as scary. He couldn’t help but lean into it in his weakened and emotional state. “I want to know why you’re crying, Seven. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Seven’s eyes drifted back down to his feet. “I…” He tried to blink away the tears but they fell instead. “I don’t know.”

He felt her thumb rake one of his tears away. “Well. There is something I do know.”

Seven looked up at her, and she had a smile pulling up on each side of her mouth. She never smiled.

“He saw you once as an infant, and didn’t care about your wellbeing for a second afterwards. He claims you’re being used, but he never tried to get to you. He never put a shred of effort into you…” She mumbled, smile brightening just a little bit. “And he says he loves you. If he can love you after all of that, then think of how much I, the one who always looked after you, who's been with you, who’s cared about you endlessly for your entire life… think about how much that means I love you.”

Seven sobbed.

She sat up onto her knees and coaxed him into a hug. He didn’t really hug her back, his hands stayed in his lap, but he did let his head fall down onto her shoulder, and he let his tears flow more freely there. 

“I know it hurts, but you don’t need him,” She said softly. One of her hands was smoothing down the hair on the back of his head. “We all want our family to love us, yes, but we can’t despair over it if they don’t. We just have to find something better than blood. And I think we already have.”

Seven said nothing, but pressed his head further into her shoulder.

For a few minutes, she let him cry.

“Now,” She breathed. “I bet you’re starving. I wished to speak to you sooner, but a few other things demanded my attention.”

She pulled out of the embrace and smiled faintly at him, both of her hands coming up to rest on either side of his face for a split second before she stood, grabbing her cloak and clasping it around her shoulders again. She left her hood off this time. 

“Come on, I’ll take you down to the dining room,” 

Seven followed her without much thought.

He followed her along a long, carpeted hallway, lined with bedroom doors, down a massive curling staircase, and through a lavish entryway, his eyes sticking on the various huge pieces of art and sculptures that seemed to be everywhere. They turned through a large cased opening, and inside was a dining room.

It was all a dark wood, with a massive, long table in the center, a crackling fireplace on the wall opposite to the door, and victorian style furnishings and finishing all around. 

“Alright. Come sit,” She stated. She moved to the head of the table nearest to the fireplace and pulled out the chair, so Seven sat, silently. “There is… one more order of business I have to attend to, now that you’re living among the other eight. But right after, I’ll have my maids fix you food, whatever you like, and as much as you want.”

Seven glanced over his shoulder at her. She was looking at the fireplace, the flames flickering in her brown eyes.

“Because you’re now technically a part of the same group as them, you need their mark. Just for official purposes, nothing to do with you,” She muttered. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t get one at all. But you must. Just know, that getting this mark doesn’t change anything between me and you, alright? It’s just a routine procedure that holds no merit in our relationship.”

Seven wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He guessed it was something the other people with names like his had to do, but he’d never met them, so he wasn’t sure what it was. “…Okay?”

She turned away from him, toward one of the dining room entrances that seemed to lead to a kitchen, saying something in a language he didn’t understand. What did they speak in South Africa? Afrikaans? 

A man in a butler’s uniform came in at her call. She said something else, but Seven didn’t know what.

She moved up next to the chair he was in, and the butler went to the fireplace, pulling what looked like a fire poker out of it. At the end was a large, flat piece, with metal protruding from it in the shape of words. The whole thing was red hot.

With a start, he realized what the mark must’ve been.

“No,” He gasped, looking back up at her, tears already springing to his eyes at the thought of the searing pain. “No. Please, Red, please.”

“It’s alright,” She spoke. The butler pulled his chair away from the table with a screech along the floor, and Seven almost flew out of it. 

“Look straight down,” The butler ordered.

“No,” He sobbed. “Red, please-“

“It’s alright, Seven,” She said, kneeling down in front of him, taking both of his hands in hers. “It’ll only last a moment. I’m right here.”

“No-“

The butler shoved Seven’s head down roughly, and he sobbed, squeezing Red’s hands as tight as he possibly could.

The burning metal came in contact with the back of his neck, and he wasn’t even conscious long enough to hear himself scream.

—

Once Seven was unconscious, the butler carefully put the metal back into the fireplace, stealing a glance at the perfectly sized ‘SLAVE’ that was red and irritated, burned onto the back of his neck.

With a long sigh, Red stood, wiggling her hands out of the boy’s with a cringe. “Take him up to his room, and leave him with some food,” She ordered blankly, every trace of care or gentleness that had been on her face mere moments ago completely vanished. 

“I told him I loved him, made him cry. He won’t be leaving anytime soon,” She spoke. “Children who crave love cave the quickest.”

The butler merely nodded, gathered Seven into his arms, and left the room.

“Oh, and-“ She started, glancing back at him. “Leave him a note from me that says something sweet, and that I had something I had to do. I don’t feel like thinking about it right now.”

The butler bowed with a nod, and left the room with the boy bundled up in his arms.

—

tag list that KINDA works

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy @bookwarm0-0

@custommadeazula

i’m only on chapter 17 but i love this book sm.

spoilers under the cut

i love the way Lancali uses personification throughout the book. Not only does it add some awesome imagery, but also because it TIES SO WELL WHEN YOU REALIZE WHO SAM IS AS A CHARACTER!

Sam, who holds no gender or name, comes to people in the form others need them to be. watching in the background as people suffered, people being hit with that feeling that they met before. Sam is a personification of hope.

time, death, and disease are things intangible, but are personified by the characters who defy these notions, taking back a life that was stolen from them.

and i absolutely love how the original Sam, boy Sam, also played around with this personification. in one of the chapters, we see him greeting every inanimate object as if it was alive, greeting the wall, greeting a door, playing pretend. it’s only when he gives narrator Sam a name that brings them to life

so far, this book has been really cool! i love the character interactions, the author’s writing is absolutely beautiful, you can tell there is genuine emotion behind every page and that just makes me more sad

every time i end a chapter my mind is like “oh yeah, that’s a good place to end off.” only to remember THERES STILL MORE😭

this book has me in a chokehold to the point i’m scared to see how it goes, because apparently the characters DIE? (is this what i get for spoiling myself by watching the author’s tiktok’s?)

anyways, thank you for coming to my messy book rant

virgil shall play

✨the bass✨

Stop for a moment please 🛑✋🚨

In the name of humanity, I am telling you to read my whole story 🙏

I am Issam From Gaza🍉, I have been suffering from the war for a whole year, but my suffering is more severe than others.

I husband and father of three children, the eldest of whom is my son, Muhammad Scott Awam, then Nada, who is seven years old, and the last of whom is young, Amir, who is in employment.

My house was bombed while I and my family were inside it. I lost my wife, my son Muhammad, and my daughter Nada, and my young child, Amir, came out from under the rubble with many injuries, and I lost my arms and feet. There is nothing left for my little child, Amir, except me. His mother and brothers have died, and I am now undergoing treatment because my condition is still under care. I will not leave the hospital because I need care first and foremost. I am now in dire need of treatment outside Gaza so that I can install prosthetic limbs so that I can support my son, as he has no support in this life now except me.

I ask you to look with mercy and compassion on my little child, who is not yet two years old, who lost his mother and siblings and now lives alone, far from his father, who is staying in the hospital. I hope that you will donate to us so that we can live and I can support my child and take him abroad in order to save what is left of my family and I can install artificial limbs, as they are expensi

gofundme.com

Donate to Help give Essam and Amir a chance to rebuild their lives, organized by Raina Carter

Hi, my name is Raina Carter and I live in Portland, Oregon. I am… Raina Carter needs your support for Help give Essam and Amir a chance to r

i’m so mad at myself right now i’ve been stressing about this only to find out i didn’t need to sign all 50 states for homework, but 10⁉️😭

i need a drink (of water)

what do u mean i have to memorize all 50 states of the US of A in ASL

gofundme.com

Donate to Save Gaza Family: Urgent Evacuation Fund, organized by MOHAMMED Hilles

Hello, My name is mohammd, married and a father of four child… MOHAMMED Hilles needs your support for Save Gaza Family: Urge

Help me get my children out. I want to see them safe. Help my family

“just be normal” i think your normal is very different from my normal !

i’m so happy i brought mac n cheese and bread for school today

“but vela, someone just said that it smells bad!“

well they just don’t know the smell of GOOD FOOD

anyways,

MY MAC N CHEESE🥰🥰🤩🤩🤑🤑🤑